The zeal of the true Christian for Christ and his Gospel is never accompanied with those flaming contentions and oppositions, which, though engaged in the best of causes, certainly testify a corrupt mind. They had rather obey than dispute, follow than have the pre-eminence.
The zeal of the true Christian for Christ and his Gospel is never accompanied with those flaming contentions and oppositions, which, though engaged in the best of causes, certainly testify a corrupt mind. They had rather obey than dispute, follow than have the pre-eminence.
Southgate's Sermons.
The year 1648 produced events, that were alike the glory and the shame of England. It was first signalized by the illustrious stand which the university of Oxford made against successful usurpation, by appointing delegates to examine the oaths they were now required to take, and to state why, in reason and conscience, they could not submit to the imposition. These delegates, to their eternal renown, and to the honour of those for whom they acted, "though then under the power of a strict and strong garrison put over them by Parliament, the King in prison, and their hopes desperate, passed a public act and declaration against the covenant, with such invincible arguments of the illegality, wickedness, and perjury contained in it, that no man of the contrary opinion, nor even the assembly of divines, which then sat at Westminster, ever ventured to make any answer to it." And the publication of their reasons, "must remain to the worlds end, as a monument of the learning, courage, and loyalty of that excellent place, against the highest malice and tyranny that ever was exercised in or over any nation."
Resistance of such a pure and steady character, conducted with meek fortitude, and supported by unimpeachable wisdom, was too dangerous an offence to be forgiven. Ejection of the members from the scanty subsistence which they derived from their collegiate endowments, was the first punishment. To this, banishment from Oxford was immediately added, and, in many cases, imprisonment. The obnoxious oaths were tendered to all the members of the university, and those who refused to compromise their consciences for bread, were commanded to quit the happy asylum of their age, or to renounce all their youthful studies and hopes in twenty-four hours, by beat of drum, on pain of being treated as spies. Few were found so selfish as to submit to the alternative of perjury; and thus the venerable sages and generous youth of England went forth like the confessors of antient times, "of whom the world was not worthy; afflicted, destitute, tormented, they wandered in deserts, in mountains, in caves, and dens of the earth." At one time they were forbidden to earn a subsistence as private tutors in families; at others, restricted from performing any ministerial functions, even so much as administering the sacrament to dying persons, who yet, by the arbitrary regulations of many of the new parochial ministers, might not receive it from them, unless they also first took the covenant.
Dignified clergymen were at this time travelling on foot, nearly destitute of common necessaries, and relying on the charity of casual passengers for support[1]. Cathedrals had long been converted into barracks for horse-soldiers, and bishop's palaces into prisons for the ejected clergy, whose families, now deprived of the last pittance, and actually in want of bread[2], became earnest supplicants that the moiety of the benefices, of which their fathers were deprived, (and which the Parliament had agreed should be appropriated to their support,) should be regularly paid. "But these applications oftener produced vexatious and expensive suits than effectual relief."
As the clerical associates of the party who now reigned triumphant, rushed in crowds to fill the vacant seats, the aspect of Alma Mater was completely changed. As much sanctity as possible was thrown into the face, and mirth and pleasantry were avoided as marks of a carnal mind. The young competitors for academical learning were led to examination, through rooms hung with black, and illuminated by so faint a taper, that it only served to make darkness visible. This obscurity was a prelude to a fearful questioning by a Saint, "with half a dozen night-caps on his head, and religious horror in his countenance"[3], who asked him whether he abounded in grace,—the state of his soul,—if he was of the number of the elect—the occasion of his conversion, and the exact period when it happened. Such was the general aspect of manners, and such the state of learning; many respectable exemptions were, however, found in men who placed religion in something more essential than lecturing out of Calvin's institutes, pointing Scripture-texts at political opponents, or assuming the vinegar aspect of puritanical monachism. Some also have been recorded, who shewed that they were dissenters from purely conscientious motives, who refused to enrich themselves with the plunder of episcopacy, and, considering the clergy of the desolated church as men and brethren, stretched out the hand of humanity to alleviate their afflictions.
Such was the good Barton. By one of the sports of Fortune, he was nominated to the stall which Dr. Beaumont was expected to vacate, by refusing the prescribed oaths. Among the foibles of this worthy man, must be ranked a high opinion of his own spiritual attainments; but this being qualified by the technical phrases of his sect, did not alarm his really tender conscience, for though he would have considered the same inordinate degree of self-esteem as sinful, in one who did not hold the same religious tenets; yet, by changing the term disposition into gift, he thought himself permitted to talk of his present piety, knowledge, perseverance, diligence, and success in the ministry, as of a vessel filled with grace, and ordained to honour. Still, when he spoke of himself as man, he used the strongest terms of self-abasement. He had no doubt he should be able to foil Dr. Beaumont in argument, and convince him that the Anglican church was really anti-christian. His benevolence and liberality urged him to undertake this office at this time, in hopes that, since the Doctor's subsistence depended upon his acquiescence, expediency would facilitate conviction. The noble disinterestedness of this intention must attract admiration; and though there were abler advocates in the cause of Presbytery, it would have been difficult to select one whose motives were so commendable.
When Barton visited his friend, with a view to effect his conversion, he took care to conceal the interest he himself had in the business. With many encomiums on the Doctor's learning and moral conduct, he urged him to that conformity which would preserve him in a state of usefulness. He spoke of the differences between moderate members of the Lutheran and Reformed churches as including no essential doctrines; and mentioned the friendly intercourse which Calvinistical congregations on the continent had ever maintained with the church of England, assisting her in her troubles, and receiving her persecuted members with open arms. He observed, that what was not evidently of divine origin should never be made binding to the souls of men, that it was never too late to retract errors, and if, in the first hurry of separation, some remains of popish impurity adhered to a new-born church, it behoved its members to remove the defilement, as soon as a more simple and scriptural view of the subject allowed them to complete the work of reformation.
So far Dr. Beaumont, in general, agreed with Mr. Barton; but, adverting to the learning and talents of the fathers of the Anglican church, he conceived it attributable to their moderation and wisdom, and not to their want of sincerity or of clear spiritual views, that they endeavoured, not to build a new church, but to purify and reform their old one. Hence, in reply to the taunt of the Romanists, "Where was your religion before Luther?" they could say, "Our religion preceded your corruptions, and ever was in the Bible;" thus claiming for their founder, neither Luther, nor Calvin, nor Melancthon, nor Zuinglius; but the Saviour of the world. As to the remark, that what was not of divine institution should not be made a condition of communion, it applied with full force against the new-fangled covenant, and he clearly proved the injustice of an imposition, which could never be called law, while it wanted the essentials which the constitution required; namely, the assent of the three legislative powers. It threw a grievous burden upon the conscience of those who took it, because, not content with binding them to the new form of worship, it also required them to endeavour to extirpate Prelacy, classing it with Popery, superstition, heresy, schism, and profaneness. These may all be proved contrary to the word of God; whereas, allowing that episcopacy is not actually prescribed by Scripture, its greatest maligners have never been able to shew that it is contrary to any rule or precept expressed or implied. No conscientious man, therefore, could take this covenant, unless he thought that Prelacy ought to be interdicted, and its maintainers persecuted to extirpation.
On other branches of the oath, such as its pretext of defending the King's person, while it justified raising armies to deprive him of his lawful rights, and accusing the faithful adherents of the King as being malignant incendiaries, and the cause of the nation's misfortunes, Dr. Beaumont forbore to expatiate; as a clergyman, he was required chiefly to look at the ecclesiastical tendency of this obligation, and on that account he preferred poverty, bonds, or even death, to subscription.
Barton acknowledged that his party had gone too far, and hoped time would soften their asperity, and reclaim those who had so loudly complained of persecution, from continuing to be persecutors. He enlarged on the beautiful simplicity of primitive worship, as described in Scripture; talked of the mistakes which had proceeded from a misapplication of the word Bishop in our translations, and complained that the church was profuse in her ceremonies; that her forms were too copious, redundant, and evidently copied from the Romish missal; and that her terms of subscription were too minute and galling to tender consciences.
Dr. Beaumont acknowledged that, like all human institutions, the church of England, its Liturgy, and its authorised translation of Scripture, were imperfect; but unless we admit fallibility as a justifiable motive for rejecting whatever is of human origin, and withholding our obedience to all governments, because there is something defective in them, this objection must fall to the ground. The very nature of man, which prevents him from devising what is perfect, enables him to discover those defects in the labours of others, which his self-love will not let him perceive in his own; and thus it has ever been easy to detect and censure abuses, but difficult to correct them. He proved, that no congregation of Christians could be maintained, without observing various forms and arrangements not mentioned in Scripture, in which there is no fuller description of public service, than that they met together, withone accord, for the purpose of prayer, praise, singing hymns, reading and expounding the word of God. The rule, "Let all things be done in order," coupled with the injunction, "to obey those who have rule over you," justified every national church in framing articles of concord, and a formulary for public worship; and he thought private Christians could not be vindicated for disobeying their spiritual superiors, unless the required terms included something contrary to divine laws. He inferred from Acts, chap. iv. v. 24, and the following verses, that a form of prayer was early used in the Christian church, as it had been in the Jewish; and he stated that the divine compendium prescribed by our Lord was, indeed, a selection of passages from Jewish prayers. He observed, that without a service, previously known to all the congregation, only the minister could be said to pray, the rest were auditors, not a congregation; listeners to their orator, and judges of his eloquence; not petitioners in their own name, begging mercy of God.—Seceders generally pleaded that they put confidence in their minister; but he would tell them, this was being more Popish than the church of England could be, in retaining some of the dresses, Liturgies, and hierarchical orders used by the Romanists; for it was an error of that church, against which our reformers most vehemently protested, to give undue importance to the officiating minister, on whose intention and purpose the value of the sacred ordinance depended. If we change the word Intention to Gift, is the absurdity less glaring? The Papists believe, that their priest in the mass can, if he so wills it, change a wafer into flesh; and that his coinciding purpose is necessary to make any means of grace effectual. The Anti-formalists call it serving God, to stand while their minister utters extemporary prayers, the propriety and suitableness of which must depend on his wisdom and elocution. The resemblance between the lower classes of secular preachers, and the mendicant Friars, whose conduct was the disgrace and ruin of Popery, is most evident; especially in their abuse of the parochial clergy, from whom they completely estranged the minds of the people, and then led them into all the absurdities of fanaticism. He shewed that it was preserving the worst parts of Popery to make a merit of attending religious assemblies, instead of considering and hearing the word, as a help to right action; and that in uncharitable judgment of others, with respect to their spiritual state, and a pertinacious persuasion that salvation is confined to their own church, the strict Calvinist and the strict Papist were as one. And he bade Mr. Barton to join with him in praying God, that there might not be a still closer resemblance; for the crime of King-killing was of Popish origin, and was defended under the plea, that to promote the cause of God by cutting off his enemies was our duty, thus investing themselves with the right of judging who were God's enemies, and what was truly his cause.
In saying that the discipline and Liturgy of the English church was copied from that of the church of Rome, the case was unfairly stated. Her reformers endeavoured, in all things, to go back to the earliest and purest models. With singular modesty of judgment, they thought invention and discovery ill-sounding names in religion. The usages she kept in common with Rome were those she copied from the primitive churches, and were therefore uncontaminated with her errors.
In respect to the wordbishop, admitting there was a misapplication of the term, in its present sense, to the ministers of the Ephesian and Cretan churches, whom Timothy and Titus were commissioned by St. Paul to select and appoint, yet it was to Timothy and Titus themselves, and to the authority they were commanded to exercise over these bishops or presbyters, that we were to look for the scriptural precedent of Episcopacy. The word Bishop did not come into the use to which we now apply it during the lives of the apostles, who possessed the same species of superintendence. But after the death of St. John, the apostolical fathers, who succeeded as governors of the church of Christ, modestly declined assuming the name of Apostle, as sanctified by the peculiar appointment of their heavenly Lord. As Christianity spread, each tract of country, or large city, had its bishop or overseer, who ordained the subordinate presbyters and deacons, and administered the rite of confirmation. Such, without exception, was the government of the church for nearly sixteen hundred years; and during that period scarce any objections were started against its utility. What St. Paul appointed Timothy to be at Ephesus, and Titus in Crete, that was Clement at Rome, Ignatius at Antioch, and Polycarp at Smyrna; each the ecclesiastical superintendent of his respective congregation, and a bond of union among dispersed societies of Christians.
As to the hardship of the terms of communion required by the Church, and the unscriptural tendency of some of her forms, Dr. Beaumont wished that the objectors would agree in stating what they wanted to have altered, in such a manner that unity might indeed be promoted. "But while," said he, "every one conceives himself at liberty to find fault, and no two agree in what you would have changed; while some of your most learned and pious bring forth new liturgies[4], framed according to their own peculiar fancy, without the least reference to ancient forms, or any even plausible pretence why their inventions should supplant what has been long in use; while others run into metaphysical subtleties and nice definitions of abstract doctrines[5]; and others inveigh against all forms as subversive of Christian liberty, are we not justifiable in retaining what we have till you agree in producing something better? And as to the multiplicity of our institutions, even with our fearful example to teach you brevity and simplicity, you have not found the drawing up of the constitution of a church so simple a thing. The Directory which was fashioned by your divines took almost a day to read over; and it is with a bad grace that you object to our using words not found in holy writ, which we say are rendered necessary by the present state of theological controversy, when your divines adopted many new-coined, indefinite words, for which neither Scripture, precedent, nor significance, could be pleaded."
Mr. Barton forbore replying to many points in dispute; he acknowledged that the assembly of divines "had disappointed the hopes of their employers;" but, recurring to episcopacy, he said, that admitting the existence of a superintending order among the primitive clergy, how could we reconcile the poverty and lowliness of the antient bishops with the splendour, wealth, and temporal power of their successors? and he added, that the ruin of the church was greatly owing to the secular lives of the clergy.
To this Dr. Beaumont replied, that in different states of the church different duties were required of her ministers. And if (as experience proved) in a state of persecution, the head of the flock was first called to suffer, it followed that in prosperous times those who occupied that station should also be admitted to an upper seat at "the shearer's feast." Wealth, power, and splendour, are not of necessity sinful. They did indeed often afford temptations to offend, and so did poverty; a low servile condition, a life of austerity and mortification, nay, even religious observances, for the Pharisee sinned in an act of worship, by boasting himself to be righteous, and despising others. "It must ever be," said he, "while the Christian priesthood is filled by men subject to infirmity, that in prosperous times the ministry will, in numerous instances, be formed of worldly-minded persons, who follow their Lord for the bread he distributes, and care little for the bread of life. Such persons being active, ambitious, practised in those habits which bring their possessors into notice, endowed with much worldly wisdom, and perhaps supported by powerful interest, must, according to the ordinary course of things, climb to eminent stations, and by the publicity of their conduct give occasion to scandal. But no sooner does the church appear in danger, than these mock supporters desert her; either changing their party for that which, they think, will eventually predominate, or seeking personal security in concealment. But then the true servants of God appear in view; they who, meek and humble, pious and learned, claim only the distinction of defending or suffering for a calling which they embraced with a view of fulfilling its duties, not of engrossing its rewards. All this results, not from the discipline of our church, but from human nature; and which-ever of your sects finally gains the ascendancy, the worldly-minded man will find in it the same expedients to help him to obtain the secular objects at which he aspires."
"As to your charge, Mr. Barton, that the lives of our clergy gave occasion to the downfall of our church, you cannot prove it, unless, invested with the attribute of omniscience, you can look into the hearts of men, and estimate the comparative worth of two numerous communities. The claims of our church to apostolical purity rest on her doctrines, constitution, and services. These are capable of proof and investigation, and are not affected by the unworthiness of her ministers. The pretensions of those sects who reject all creeds, forms, and canons, rest solely on the qualities of their members; and those who deny that human institutions can be binding, seem to adopt the common language of reformers, intimating, that they who pull down the old temple must be a wiser and worthier race of beings than those who supported it. Now as each man takes a personal interest in the triumph of his party, he thinks it his duty, not only to give his neighbour credit for whatever portion of graces and abilities he lays claim to, but also makes the same claim for himself; and he must be a bad caterer who cannot make a savoury compound of spiritual delicacies, when he thus traffics in them by barter. Yet I often wonder how they, who positively insist on the absolute depravity of mankind, can reconcile it to consistency, to make so many of their own brethren absolutely saints. They call themselves in the aggregate, the vilest of sinners; yet, when they come to describe particulars, they employ language which even the most eminent of all the Apostles had too humble a sense of his defects to adopt. But on the contrary, we who do not found our claims on the superiority of the earthen vessels in which the heavenly treasure is lodged, are not solicitous to describe the church militant in terms appropriate only to the church triumphant. We see and deplore the vices and errors of each other; and after that acknowledgment, do not, worthy Barton, call us uncandid if I add, we also discover yours. I will go further, and own, that we record that as a blemish which you produce as a beauty; I mean your zeal to promote separation, so plainly contradictory, not merely to a dubious text, a difficult chapter, or even an epistle hard to be understood, but to the whole tenor of the New Testament, which, from St. Matthew to the Revelations, preaches concord, brotherly love, candour, humility, lenity in judgment, meekness, submission, unity in belief, in worship, in our conduct on earth, and in final hope of an eternal reward in heaven."
Mr. Barton admitted the use and necessity of an establishment, notwithstanding the errors which must at first mix with it, and the inert supineness it must afterwards introduce; but he saw little danger in schism, and doubted if it could indeed be counted a sin. He enlarged on those texts which permitted Christian liberty, and laid it down as a fundamental rule for the only difference allowable in a state, that one church should be approved and all the rest tolerated. The approved church should be that which had most members, and it should afford public maintenance and greater encouragement to its pastors; but all opinions might be promulgated with equal freedom, and every person left at liberty to interpret Scripture as he pleased, and to serve God in his own way.
Dr. Beaumont conceived the adoption of this plan would give occasion to much talk about religion, but would ripen none of its fruits. The attention of most men would be too much engrossed by temporal pursuits to exercise this privilege of choice, till sickness or calamity urged them to think of a future world. Weak minds, he said, would be "ever learning, and never coming to the knowledge of the truth," and the best disposed would be most apt to fall into error from extreme solicitude to be right. The differences between Christians chiefly consist in mysterious or speculative points; hence the perpetual controversies of those who were struggling to enlarge their communities, would divert the attention of mankind from moral duties. Every preacher would become, as it were, a religious prize-fighter, drawing round him an auditory as a means of subsistence, instead of instructing a congregation in their duty to God. So there would be endless dispute, nice sifting of abstract ideas, and censorious inquisitiveness into the spiritual state of our neighbours, but little humility, charity, or true piety; which consist in grateful adoration of, and sincere obedience to our Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier, and not in speculations on the incomprehensible nature and unfathomable purposes of God. From such unedifying pursuits our church, in her articles, dissuades even her riper members; how much more then must she, in her elementary instructions, avoid exciting a taste for them in the tender minds of her catechumens.
"Respecting the texts which require us to exercise Christian liberty, we ought" observed Dr. Beaumont, "to remember two considerations, which will assist us so to understand, as not to misapply Scripture. We should first consider the occasion which called forth the precept, and I believe you will find many of those you quoted, were meant to dissuade Gentile converts from observing the abrogated institutions of the Jewish law; at least, I am sure you will not find one which permitted a convert to say he chose to belong to the congregation of Paul or Apollos, or Cephas. Such licence of choice St. Paul strictly prohibits, ever labouring, as his Master had done before him, to build up a church in perfect unity of faith and worship. The other hint which I would suggest to you is, that the example of the Devil shews us that texts of Scripture may be wrested so as to recommend presumption and other enormous offences. Most assuredly, human governments have no power to inhibit man from interpreting the Word of God as his conscience dictates, but it is much to be wished, for the repose of Christendom, for the comfort of individuals, and the general increase of Christian graces, that "the unlearned and unstable" would exercise that lowliness and sacred awe which, operating as a moral restraint, would prevent them from giving their crude conceptions as faithful interpretations of the secret things of the Most High. This evil began to work in the Apostles' days, and every heresy and error that has since arisen in the Catholic church, claims for its foundation some misapplied text, which the perverse subtlety, or presumptuous ignorance of its founder wrested from its true significance. The usurpations of Popery, the daring impieties of Socinus, the mystical reveries of pietism, and the turbulent licentiousness of the fifth-monarchy-men, all assail the champions of orthodoxy with weapons stolen from the divine armoury. Nay, I have heard that the doctrine of metempsychosis has been supported by Scripture-proof, and many texts brought to prove the re-appearance of one human soul in a variety of bodies[6]. Though therefore I sincerely deprecate all legal restraints on the free use of the Word of God, I must commend those divines who enforce the moral restraints I have mentioned, instead of encouraging a boundless latitude of interpretation.
"Shall I weary you if I point out whence arise these discrepancies of opinion? We look into Scripture to confirm our preconceived notions, not with a reverent desire of learning the truth. Each sect prefers some portion of Christian doctrine to the whole, and urges its favourite tenet to an undue extreme. Unskilful interpreters separate texts from their contexts, or they found doctrines on obscure passages, explaining away those plain ones by which the more difficult should be expounded, and overlooking those cautions by which the Holy Spirit guards against exaggeration. By such men a rhetorical illustration, a poetical figure, a local or temporary instruction, are made to form points of faith or positive rules of practice. It is evident many, even of the moral precepts, given by our Saviour, cannot be literally obeyed[7]; and were intended rather to cultivate a general feeling, than to be referred to as a precise injunction; and if we allow for the strong imagery of eastern idiom on these occasions, let us do the same for those texts from whence arose the unhappy disputes among Protestants, on what are called the Five Points; which gave great occasion to Popery to exult in the disorder produced by our separation from her. And would to God that could have been avoided without partaking in her sins!
"To illustrate my idea of the manner in which even moral texts should be construed, I should consider your favourite precept of "Stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free," as rather intended to limit the frequent injunctions "to obey those who have rule over us," and to shew Christianity did not enjoin servility, than as designed to prove that we are allowed to choose our own temporal and spiritual masters. And that this is the true interpretation, the universal opinion of mankind must prove, who, in preferring government to anarchy, and supporting the state by coercive laws, shew that they consider the multitude as naturally subject to the institutions of the country which gave them birth, and whose protection and privileges they enjoy. And believe me, Mr. Barton, those who now insist so much on the rights of equal liberty, when they come to govern, will inforce the duty of subordination, and will exact all the claims to which age, station, authority, prescription, or superior attainments are entitled. I shall not blame them; the peace of society depends on the inviolability of these claims. I only censure them for exciting popular resentment against us, by holding forth ideas of perfection which experience tells us cannot be realized in this life."
"I perceive," returned Barton, "you object to the fundamental doctrines on which we found our separation; but, if you refuse to be my convert, let me hope that you will at least affect a passive acquiescence. If the King assents to the terms which Parliament now requires, and abolishes episcopacy, surely you will not resist what you must then, on your own principles, admit to be law."
Dr. Beaumont steadily answered, that even then he would not take the covenant; for though the King and Parliament conjointly possessed very ample legislative powers, they could not alter the constitution, of which they were conservators, not fabricators. "But," said he, "this question is scarcely a speculation. I am well aware that our high-minded King too little values the title and parade, which he is aware is all the present Parliament will ever grant him, to wound his own conscience, or lay snares for that of others. I have therefore rather to consider how I shall suffer with my King, than whether I can temporize with him. I know, worthy Barton, you have a message to deliver. It does not come upon me as an assassin upon a sleeping man; I have long foreseen that this strong-hold of loyal and episcopal principles could not be spared; and I have earnestly implored the grace of Christian fortitude, that I may resign my last temporal possession without a murmur. The power possessed by the predominant party to afflict us, is given them by God. It is designed to purify a sinful people, and to revive the flame of piety in a lukewarm church, whose best restorative will be exemplary holiness. Tried in the furnace of adversity, I doubt not that she will come out pure gold, and that our present sorrows will serve as a warning to the latest times in which England shall be remembered as a nation, to beware of the leaven of hypocrisy, to avoid divisions, and to cultivate universal charity and forbearance, instead of vain unprofitable disputations on metaphysical rights and abstruse doctrines."
Mr. Barton asserted that public morals had been much benefited by the new ministry, who, however unpromising their attainments and manners might be to secular eyes, shewed by their success that they were chosen implements in the hand of Providence to convert the nation. He observed the cause of unity would be considerably benefited by England's conforming to the discipline of the reformed churches abroad. He would not affirm that episcopacy was the cause of her present miseries; but he insisted it would be a hindrance to her healing her wounds.
Dr. Beaumont answered, that there was no doubt Divine Power could accomplish its ends by any instrument; but as it was presumptuous in man to require Omnipotence to work miracles, so it was the duty of rulers to select the most capable and promising agents for every work of importance. The will of God was as often fulfilled by stubborn folly as by obedient wisdom; yet those who wished that "will to be done upon earth," would fill responsible stations with those that seemed most like the inhabitants of heaven.
"You must allow us, who have played a losing game, to talk," said Dr. Beaumont, "and believe me, that so far from meaning any thing personal in my remarks, I honour the patience with which you listen to my prosings, and the benevolence which induces you to wish me to see my own interest. As far as I have observed, men of sound heads, and sober lives, are oftener endued with the especial graces of the Holy Spirit, than persons of weak judgment, or those whose previous conversation placed them in the power of sin, that grand hardener of the heart. A great change has indeed taken place in the manners of the nation; but when I see the dreadful scenes that daily occur; the first persons in the kingdom dragged to prison, or to the scaffold, for no other crime than allegiance; estates confiscated; the temples of God despoiled; the mysteries of religion ridiculed and disputed; the bonds of family-affection broken; servants turned into house-hold spies; domestic privacies violated by informers, in the shape of friends; every one disputing about religion, yet few knowing in what it consists; spiritual pride calling itself piety, and censoriousness affecting the name of zeal for our neighbour's salvation; insubordination pervading every order of society; all clamouring for their own way, and 'meaning licence, when they cry liberty;' the most disingenuous shifts and dishonest contrivances resorted to, not merely without punishment, but without fear of censure; when I see all this, can I say that morals are improved, because theatres are turned into conventicles, and banquets and revels give place to polemical lectures? The faces of men do indeed assume the appearance of sanctity, but that it is only the appearance is evident, because true piety gives chearful serenity to the countenance, and easy simplicity to the whole carriage. It occasionally blazes in ordinary conversation, but it is in the fervent and edifying language of glory to God, and good-will to man. It never talks, for the sake of some secular, or treacherous purpose, of seeking the Lord.—It judges not its neighbour's heart.—It boasts not of its early provocations and present acceptance, nor does it debase the doctrine of Providence, by low and familiar applications of Almighty interposition to its own trivial concerns; applications which argue, not religious thankfulness, but self-importance. It is careful never to anathematize its opponents, by a misapplication of Scripture-texts or events, knowing 'that the sword of the Spirit,' must not be wielded by personal, or party animosity. Nor does it suffer the fervors of devout love and gratitude, to overpower the humility of conscious dust and ashes. Its approaches to the Holy One of Israel are made with reverence. The sanctity of a penitent heart revolts from every allusion to carnal passion, with more than virgin horror; and in its most elevated raptures it still sees the Creator, and the creature, the Saviour, and the sinner, the Sanctifier, and thing sanctified. Such is true piety, the habit of the soul; not the disfigurer of the countenance, nor the fashioner of the apparel, in which points it shews no difference from good sense, and modest propriety."
"The observations you have made on the advantages which would result from the King's giving up episcopacy, require but a brief reply. If, as has been shewn, Calvin introduced a form of discipline, perfectly anomalous, the error of the reformed churches, in departing from antient usage, is not to be copied, but shunned; and conformity would make England do wrong, not prove Geneva to be right. On this false view of unity, might the primitive Christians and Protestant martyrs be censured for non-conformity. It could be said, that they disturbed the repose of the world, by opposing the old doctrine of the unity of the Godhead to idol worship, or, that by preaching the primitive faith, they annulled the lucrative Christianity in which the Papacy traded. Nor do I admit that expedience is a lawful rule of conduct, in cases where moral principle is concerned. We must act as our conscience, enlightened by the best helps we can procure, tells us is right, and leave the event to God."
"And now," continued Dr. Beaumont, "my good friend, for such I know you are, even in this attempt to change my principles, though my coat has been worn too long, and is of too stubborn stuff to cut into the new shape, tell me the name of my successor, that I may remember him in my prayers. For trust me, he, and all those who supplant the episcopal clergy, will have an arduous duty to fulfil. The eyes of Europe will be turned upon them. They have made a vast vacuity, and it will require no common portion of ability, no ordinary supply of graces, to fill the mighty void. Popery has long looked to our church for the most potent soldiers. See that ye be able to maintain the Protestant cause as effectually, and serve God as well with your labours and your lives."
Mr. Barton too well recollected Dr. Beaumont's remarks, on the covert avidity of praise, which was too marked a feature of the separatists, to use any of those phrases of humble sound, but arrogant purport, which he had just heard so properly rebuked. He thanked Dr. Beaumont for his promised intercession, in behalf of himself and his evangelical brethren; frankly acknowledging their situation would be arduous. "As to your immediate successor," said he, "I trust you will not find him, a 'barren fig-tree,' but one in 'whom faith worketh by love;' though, peradventure, his face is not shaped in exact conformity to your notions of a religious aspect, and his mode of study may have led him to doubt, where you are certain, and to deem that perspicuous, in which you see difficulties." The controversialists parted with mutual good-will.
Dr. Beaumont had already taken every precaution to fortify and prepare his family for the trial which awaited them. He had forcibly pointed out the defective patience of those, who, though submissive and composed under corrections, which proceeded immediately from the hand of God; such as sickness, loss of friends by death, or any misfortunes arising from unpropitious seasons, or other accidents; are querulous and rebellious, when the same Sovereign Disposer of events corrects them through the intervention of their enemies. Pride, envy, hatred, ingratitude, selfishness, and treachery, are evils permitted against others; as well as plagues and offences in those who cherish them. Like pain, or decrepitude, hurricanes or drought, poverty or death, they prove, and purify the servants of God. The wrath of man has an allowed limit, which it can no more pass, than the raging ocean can the rocks by which it is bounded. And, if under the trial of moral evil, we behave wisely, charitably, and devoutly, we shall often find that even fraud and envy will produce some temporal advantages. Strangers have frequently stretched out their hands to help those whom friends and kindred have oppressed and abandoned. The world is ever disposed to look kindly on persons suffering wrong, provided they are not vehement in their resentments, and disposed to assist themselves by honest industry and wise measures. The cruelty of a tyrant has sometimes introduced superior desert to conspicuous notice; and at the worst, there is an inward peace, "which passeth understanding," that the oppressor never can enjoy, nor can he deprive the victim of his hatred from partaking of it. This is that peace of God which we forfeit, only by displeasing Him.
Nor did he deem adversity and poverty useless situations to others. The wish of the powerless is recorded, the intercessive prayer of the indigent is offered to God by the Mediator, who observed and blessed the scanty donation of the poor widow. Those angels, who wait around His throne, serve the Most High, as acceptably as they who fly on his messages. It was owing to too inordinate a love of the praise of men, that people generally feared to spend their lives in a condition, where no one thought their actions worth attending to.—We like the text, "Let your light shine before men;" but we recoil from that which bids us be content with the approbation "of Him who seeth in secret." These commands were intended for different stations, one suited the affluent, the other the needy, and they were, beside, limitations and comments on each other, teaching us neither to contemn praise, nor to pursue it too ardently. He spoke much of the passive virtues, patience, returning good for evil (which the most indigent might do by remembering their enemies in their prayers), self-denial, self-examination, and aspirations after a better world. Few, he said, were in a state so destitute, as not to be able to render some service to their fellow-creatures; but all might serve God. While we possessed the inestimable gift of reason, we had ample cause to bless Him, even if we were poor, old, lame, blind, or helpless; and from such a disfigured censor, how grateful would the incense of praise ascend to our Creator's courts?
He desired Mrs. Mellicent to moderate the asperity with which she spoke and acted towards the triumphant party. He told her he had fixed his determination to return to Ribblesdale, the scene of his pastoral charge, from which he thought himself not lawfully exonerated, and where his presence might be of some service, at least as an example. But as he could only gain permission to continue there, by preserving the most quiet demeanour, she must now, from regard to his safety, (if from no better motive) avoid execrating the round-heads. He gently hinted too, that, since they must now appear in a very different capacity to what they had formerly done, a more condescending carriage, and less sharp austerity, would better conceal them from the exultation of their enemies.
He intreated Constantia, (whose silent anxiety for Eustace had paled the roses on her cheek) to think of the various miseries which had overwhelmed the nation, and to bear her portion with fortitude. Many great families had seen all their promising branches cut off. Many had to lament worse than the death of their offspring, namely, their treachery, and hopeless wickedness. To have preserved all his family around him, and only to have lost his fortune, would have been, in these times, a too rare felicity. Many profligates were neglected in their education, and of such, small hope of reformation could be formed. But if Eustace were alive, the good seed had been sown in his heart, and he could not but hope, that he would at last, if not even till the eleventh hour, be found labouring in the vineyard.
Isabel needed little admonition. She had joined with the family in the devout services in which Dr. Beaumount had exercised them, to strengthen their fortitude and arm them with Christian graces. She rose from her knees, patient, cheerful, full of resources, and ready to engage in the task of active duty. She anticipated a return to harder toils and privations, than those to which she had submitted in early life; but she felt equal to her expected trial. She rejoiced in the capability of her vigorous constitution, firm health, and unbroken spirits. She could read to the Doctor—clear-starch Mrs. Mellicent's pinners—nurse Constantia—cook for the family—take in plain-work—teach school—in short do every thing to make them comfortable, and find her own comfort in so doing.
Barton parted with the Beaumonts with deep regret. He had stretched his interest to the utmost to procure permission for the Doctor to reside at Ribblesdale, and to recover a fifth of the sequestered living for his support. He did not, however, like many friends, rest satisfied with exerting his interest. His purse was also open to their wants, and his first instance of kindness was furnishing them with a supply for their long journey. His next was giving to Dr. Beaumont a sealed bond, with an injunction not to open it till the next quarter-day. In it he covenanted to pay him regularly half the profits of his canonry as long as he enjoyed it, and to diminish a sense of obligation, he required the Doctor to return him another bond, subjecting himself to a similar division, in case a change of times should cause another revolution of incumbents. The delicacy of this proceeding, at a time so peculiarly unfavourable to the hopes of Loyalists, tended much to assist the Doctor's endeavours of making his family charitably disposed, and even Mrs. Mellicent went so far as to lament that Barton was not a churchman.
[1]Such was the case of Dr. Morley, Bishop of Winchester, who was accidentally met and relieved by Sir Christopher Yelverton, and for many years sheltered in his mansion.
[2]This was true of the family of Wren, Bishop of Hereford, besides many others. He was imprisoned eighteen years, refusing to accept any favour from the Usurper. He lived to the Restoration.
[3]This description is taken from the Spectator, No. 424. Mr. Pennant says it is believed to delineate Dr. Goodwin, President of Magdalen college, during the great rebellion.
[4]This was done by Mr. Baxter at the Savoy Conference.
[5]See the Assembly's Shorter Catechism on God's decrees, the redemption of the elect, &c.
[6]This notion was held, and a curious book written on it by the successor of Dr. Jeremy Taylor in the see of Dromore.
[7]In particular, see Luke, chap. vi. ver. 29, 30.
CHAP. XVI.
The Commonwealth is sick of its own choice.
The Commonwealth is sick of its own choice.
Shakspeare.
The aspect of Ribblesdale and the adjoining country, was completely changed, during the five years absence of the Beaumont family. The fields and villages, notwithstanding the two last years of comparative repose, bore mournful marks of the ravages of civil war; trade was still stopped and agriculture suspended. The people, disappointed in their hopes of freedom and prosperity by their new masters, longed for the restoration of their King, whose saint-like demeanour, during his long captivity, contradicted the calumnies which his enemies had propagated, and shewed him in his true light, alike conspicuous for his ability, his fortitude, and his misfortunes. The reign of freedom had ended in military despotism; equality had created a tyrant; zeal had introduced fanaticism and hypocrisy, and discontent was every where so ripe, that the presence of a victorious army, and the vigilance of almost as numerous a host of spies and informers, could not prevent attempts being made (in almost every part of the kingdom) to liberate the King, and restore the old order of things. But where to find funds and leaders, was the chief difficulty. The heads of most noble families, distinguished for loyalty, were either slain, or exiled; their estates confiscated or wasted by the pressure of enormous fines, their residences burnt or pillaged, and their farms laid waste. The few who remained in England, watched and betrayed by their own servants, knew not how to act, or whom to trust, for every tie of obligation, as well as all sense of subordination and respect for superiors, were entirely annihilated.
In passing Lathom-house, Dr. Beaumont pondered on that celebrated scene of determined female heroism. Though the noble pile bore many marks of the arduous conflict it had sustained, its walls (like the family to which it belonged) still displayed the unyielding superiority of aristocratic loyalty. But Waverly Hall was a complete ruin. A few of the meaner offices, and a part of the walls, marked where the residence stood, which once sheltered crafty selfishness. The park afforded a temporary asylum to a gang of gipseys, whose cattle grazed unmolested on the unclaimed demesne, once guarded even from the intrusion of admiring curiosity, by the secluding jealousy of a cold-hearted worldling, whose pride counteracted his ostentation, and whose timidity was even greater than his self-love.
Dr. Beaumont was himself the herald of his own return. His humble equipage attracted no attention. His first care being to lodge his family, he sought the house of Dame Humphreys. The streets of the village were silent and deserted. Neither the loom, the flail, nor the anvil were heard; not a child was to be seen at play; every thing looked as if this was a portion of that city where progressive action is suspended, and the sun hangs level over the ocean without power of sinking. Dr. Beaumont, however, found Dame Humphreys actively employed; and a superabundance of good cheer shewed that she was intent on purposes of hospitality. She welcomed the exiled Rector and his family with cordial transport; and assured him, though she had heard as many fine men since he left them as there were stars in the sky, she had never sat under any one by whom she had been so much edified.
The Beaumonts had many questions to ask, and no one was better endowed with the quality of free communication than this kind-hearted dame. She accounted for the silence of the village and her own extraordinary bustle, by stating that it was exercise-day; a meeting of ministers had been at the godly work for eight hours; and she doubted not, after so long buffeting Satan, they would come away main hungry. "My poor Gaffer," said she, "always brings all he can to our house. They tell him a blessing comes upon all those who furnish a chamber for wayfaring prophets, and set on pottage for them; but for my part I see it not, and begin to wonder whether these are prophets or no. As for our Gaffer, he has left off drinking and quarrelling, to be sure, which Your Reverence had used to rate him for at times; but then he did look after the farm and the cattle, and saw things went right. But now he says, let the morrow take care for itself; so we have nothing but preaching, and praying, and pecking at other people, and telling of experiences and stumbling-blocks, and abusing those who don't hold all that we do; and all this while the ricks grow less and less every year. And then when any thing goes wrong in the house, they pop it into a sermon, not as Your Reverence did when you preached about the ten commandments, but a preachment of an hour about such frivolous things as set husbands a-scolding their wives for spoiling their dinner, or not mending their clothes; and our poor Gaffer is grown so cast down ever since Priggins told him he thought he was a reprobate, that he says it is a crying sin to look happy; so he keeps praying on till we have no time to practise."
Isabel inquired how the children were able to command attention to such long services; and Dame Humphreys owned the change in this respect was wonderful. "To be sure," said she, "they do sometimes fall sick; but there is a vast number of thriving little saints growing up among us, who can find out a legal preacher in a moment, and tell you if he is a fine man before he is out of breath the first time. There's my grand-daughter (Nancy we used to call her, but they have since given her some hard name I never can recollect), she is only nine years old, and is such a gifted creature that she has chosen her religion, and says she will be a Brownist, for there is no other way to be saved. But her sister Hephzebah has not had her call yet, and says till she has she is to give no account for what she does, and afterwards sin will not lie at her door. Your Reverence shakes your head; but you will now find a vast deal of learning in the parish, and hard words, and every body able to talk with you; but I say again, that what with spending their time in idleness, and slandering each other, and sighing and groaning they don't know for what, and making feasts for ministers, and night meetings, and praying against the King, and cursing the bishops, and pulling down the church—give me the old times again, and the old way of going to Heaven."
Dr. Beaumont sighed at this strongly coloured, but artless picture of fanatical licence, and changed the subject by inquiring the fate of the Waverly family. Their history was indeed tragical. "Poor Sir William," Dame Humphreys said, "had turned, and trimmed, and cut in, and cut out, till nobody knew whether he was of any side at all, till, just as Prince Rupert raised the siege of Lathom House, when, thinking the King was sure to conquer, mid wanting to be made a Lord, he joined the Prince with a small troop of horse, intending (his neighbours thought) to gallop away before the battle began, for Sir William hated the sight of blood. But so it was; his time was come, and then there is no escaping, for Sir William was shot in his own quarters in a night-skirmish—and who did they think by?" Here she turned pale with horror, and the natural simplicity of her language seemed elevated by the emotions arising from the dreadful tale she had to relate.—"By his own son. O! Your Honour, it is too true. A kinsman of mine saw the deed done, and the ground has looked blasted ever since. But young Sir Harry, as now ought to be, little thought it was his father when he called him a drunken old cavalier; for the poor old gentleman trembled so, he could not cry for quarter till his son had given him his death's wound; and he saw by the flash of the pistol who it was, and called to mind how he had made him serve in the Parliament army against his will. So he just groaned out, "God is just, Harry," and died. It was the most piteous sight; for the poor youth fell on the dead body, and groaned, and tore his hair, and beat himself in such a manner, till his soldiers bore him away; and what has become of him since that day no soul knows, for he has never come to claim the estate, nor to look after any thing; so Parliament seized it all, because Sir William died at last a Loyalist. But nobody will buy it, for they cannot make a title, as Sir Harry has not forfeited, and may be alive. Beside, people said the house was haunted, so it has never been tenanted; and whoever wants to build, fetches it away piece-meal; and the gypsies camp in the Park when they come from the neighbouring fairs, and all goes to ruin like the time-serving family who lived there."
The awful reflections on retributive justice which the fate of this unprincipled man excited, were interrupted by the return of Humphreys, who ushered in some of his divines. The change which his wife described was visible in his horror-stricken countenance. He had been formerly a man of a sordid worldly disposition and hard unyielding temper, on whom the mild Christian persuasions of Dr. Beaumont had occasionally made good impressions, though these were as often blunted by the power of long indulged habits. But when such a man was roused from his stupor by the cauteries of Calvinism, despair was more likely to take possession of his mind than the pious energy and humble hopes which follow true repentance. Priggins indeed boasted of Humphreys as a convert, on the ground of his being restrained from the public commission of some faults in which he had formerly indulged; but if one evil spirit had been dispossessed, seven more wicked had taken up their abode in his heart. He was terrified, not awakened; plunged in an abyss of desperation and misanthropy, not excited to a life acceptable to God or useful to man. The sight of Dr. Beaumont recalled to his mind many acts of fraud and injustice which he had formerly committed against him; but the long exercises, as they were called, to which he had been listening, had not illustrated the universal promise of mercy to penitent sinners; they held out no encouragement to co-operate with the divine call to newness of life which the gospel gives to all mankind; they gave no explanation of reformation and restitution as necessary parts of repentance. Much to their own ease, and with daring disregard of all the plain and practical parts of Scripture, the preachers successively employed themselves in expounding what they called dark texts, on which they built their favourite system; impious in theory and destructive in practice. They spoke of election and reprobation as positive, irreversible decrees of God, no ways resulting from the conduct of man, whom they stated to be a mere inefficient vessel filled with grace and destined to glory, or heaped full of pollution and devoted to eternal destruction, according to the arbitrary will of the Framer, without any liberty of choice in himself, or any power of expediting his own faith or final justification. They spoke of the saving call as discernibly supernatural, preceded by bodily as well as mental torture, and instantaneously followed by a perceptible assurance that they could never more sin, that the righteousness of their Redeemer was imputed to them, and that, as his merits were all-sufficient, nothing was required of them but the supineness of passive faith. This routine of doctrines, varied according to the different tempers and phraseology of the preachers, and rendered yet more obscure by bold metaphors and strained allusions, was what poor Humphreys incessantly listened to, fancying he was thus taking care of his soul, and vainly hoping he would gather some instructions which would assuage his secret horrors. He was miserable when not employed in this manner; yet, as no start of enthusiasm ever told him that the saving call had taken place even in the congregations which he mistook for the courts of the Lord, he rather hoped for, than found relief from his tortures. Pale and haggard in his looks, morose and sullen in his manners, restless and dissatisfied, he revived the disputations of the conventicle at the table, calling on Dr. Beaumont to tell what he thought of some points of doctrine on which his ministers could not agree. The Doctor attempted to speak, but his voice was soon drowned by the Stentorian lungs and tautological verbiage of his opponent. Only one sentence that he uttered was distinctly heard, which was a quotation from the pious Hammond, that "exemplary virtue must restore the church." A general cry was raised against this sentiment. One repeated a text from St. Paul, supposed to assert the inefficacy of works; another observed, it was presumptuous to dictate to Providence. Some called him a formalist; others a Pharisee; while a third party, yet more metaphysical, denied that men, strictly speaking, had any power to act at all. Priggins at last rose, and, with many plausible pretences of charity, proposed that they should all pray for their offending brother, which was done in the anathematizing style which, in those days, was called intercession: "Lord, open the eyes of this reprobate sinner. Pluck him as a burning brand out of the furnace of thy wrath. Make him see that he is a vessel filled with spiritual pride, hypocrisy, and barren legality. Punish him for the saving of his soul till he repents of his ungodly enmity to us thy chosen favourites, whom thou hast raised to the work of conversion, and penned in thy fold to eternal life," &c.
Dr. Beaumont and his family withdrew, in compassionate silence, from this profane perversion of devotion, which discovered the same spirit of intolerance and persecution that characterized the darkest periods of Popery. A project had been formed by Isabel, to which the rest of the family readily assented. This was to take up their abode for the present in the untenanted ruins of Waverly-hall, and endeavour to prevent its further dilapidation. With the assistance of Williams, she re-inclosed the garden, and put a few of the outer tenements into that state of comfort which cleanliness supplies. Dame Humphreys conscientiously restored all the moveables she held in trust to furnish their apartments; and, as Dr. Beaumont brought with him a protection from the government, neither Morgan nor Priggins could prevent him from residing in the parish as long as he conducted himself in an inoffensive manner. As to Davis, since his induction into the Rectory, he had gradually carnalized (to use one of his own favourite expressions); and, being grown sleek and contented, he preferred reposing in his arm-chair to storming in the pulpit, congratulating himself with having reformed the church, which he effected by removing every ornament as superstitious, stripping public worship of every decency, publicly burning the Common Prayer books, and denying the sacraments to all who were not Covenanters. Having done all this, he thought it time to rest from his labours, and devoted his days to those gross indulgences of appetite which are not unfrequently the solaces of men who consider the enjoyments of mental taste as criminal, permitting his neglected flock to be collected by Priggins, or any other hungry itinerant who was training himself as a theological tyro, previous to his being settled in an incumbency.
Among these tents of Kedar, Dr. Beaumont fixed his habitation with a soul thirsting for peace, and a mind disposed to subdue his opponents by those invincible weapons, a meek and quiet spirit, and a holy, inoffensive, and useful life. His narrow finances, derived chiefly from a precarious fund, allowed not the practice of that liberality which is the surest means of attracting a crowd of panegyrists; and his scanty means were still further taxed by what he esteemed the duty of sending assistance to many gallant royalists at this time in arms for the imprisoned King; in particular to those, who, with the brave, repentant Morrice, surprised Pontefract Castle, and made from thence those courageous sallies and predatory incursions which gave employment to the Parliamentary troops in that quarter, and prevented them from uniting to overwhelm the succours which Sir Marmaduke Langdale was conducting to join Duke Hamilton and the Scotch Loyalists. But, however limited its means, a good heart will ever discover some way of shewing its benevolence. Charity was now a scanty rill, not an ample stream; but its source was fed by a regular supply, and where it ran it fertilized. Constantia roused her mind from the apathy of grief to obey and support her father. She found she could instruct the ignorant; and though no longer able to furnish materials for clothing the naked, she could cut out garments and sew them for those who were too ill-informed to be expert in female housewifery. Isabel and she gathered herbs; Mrs. Mellicent superintended their distillation, and again consulted "The Family Physician," in forming ointments and compounding cordials; Dr. Beaumont went from house to house, trying to conciliate his parishioners, and to recall their wanderings, in nothing changed but the paleness of his countenance and the homeliness of his attire, still reproving with mild authority, and instructing with affectionate solicitude; while his appearance spoke a heart yearning over the sorrows and sins of the kingdom, and habits necessarily restricted to that bare sufficiency which just supports life. The manners of the young ladies were equally mild, uncomplaining, and respectable; the only difference was, that Constantia was pensive and dejected, Isabel active and cheerful in adversity. The former seemed to move in a joyless routine of duty; but Isabel was so animated that only the most minute observer could tell that she was not perfectly happy, and hence she gained the character of having an unfeeling heart.
The affectionate respect which the villagers had long felt for their old pastor soon began to revive. Man naturally looks on the unfortunate with pity. The Beaumonts no longer excited envy, which (such is our proneness to offend) is often the substitute for gratitude. Dr. Beaumont was now their superior only in goodness and wisdom; a superiority more easily endured than that created by affluence or a larger share of temporal indulgencies. Many too began to be weary of the tautology and confusion of their arbitrary services, which, depending upon the humour, or (as they proudly called it) the inspiration of their minister, often wearied instead of gratifying the curiosity of the hearers. They recollected the Liturgy of the Church of England with somewhat of the feeling we entertain for a dead friend, remembering all his excellences, forgetting his imperfections, and lamenting that in his lifetime we were often inclined captiously to condemn his whole conduct. By returning to that church from which they had been led, by what they now saw was the spirit of delusion, they exercised the freedom of choice which was so dear to their proud feelings; and it soon became the request of many of the parishioners, that Dr. Beaumont would read to them the church service, and expound the Scripture in the manner prescribed by her articles. To read the Liturgy was now become a statutable offence; but Dr. Beaumont adopted, as an expedient, what was then resorted to by many divines[1]well versed in difficult cases of conscience—changing the expressions, but preserving a meaning as closely allied to the old worship as the times would admit. Yet even this transposed and disguised form was too opposite to the doctrines, and, (may it not be said?) too superior to the productions of the new teachers to be permitted with impunity. Hence Dr. Beaumont found it necessary, for his own safety, to collect his little flock on a Sunday evening, in an unfrequented valley surrounded by hills, on one of which a centinel was placed to prevent their being surprised in this interdicted worship; and thus this church, literally exiled and driven into the wilderness, performed the Christian sacrifice of prayer and praise.
The storm of war, however, soon interrupted their devotion; and, rolling fearfully from the North, came close to the dwelling where the pious pastor endeavoured to drink the waters of affliction in privacy. The Duke of Hamilton had now collected an army, from whose efforts to wipe off the shame of their countrymen the Covenanters, in delivering up the King to his merciless enemies, a glorious result was expected. With this hope they entered England by way of Carlisle; and, preceded by the English forces, led by Sir Marmaduke Langdale, they marched into Lancashire full of zeal and confidence, but negligent of that discipline, and inattentive to those military expedients by which alone (considering the enemy with whom they had to contend) the least shadow of success could be acquired. In vigilance, activity, and prompt decision, Cromwell was the very prototype of that man who has changed the aspect of the present times. Various armies were collected with almost magical celerity, and provided with every necessary for their own comfort and the annoyance of the foe; and scarcely had the Loyalists in the west, north, and east brought their raw recruits into the field, before a well-appointed body of veterans was arrayed against them, ready to cut off their resources, and give them battle. Cromwell himself took the command of the northern division; and without delaying his grand design, by stopping to subdue Pontefract Castle, as his more timid counsellors advised, he marched immediately to attack the Scotch army, though with inferior numbers, and put them to the rout, after having first defeated their English allies. Both the generals were taken prisoners. Sir Marmaduke afterwards escaped; but the Duke suffered on the scaffold shortly after the Royal Martyr whom, with late repentance, he vainly attempted to save.
The scene of this contest was so near Ribblesdale that the engagement was plainly seen from the hills I have just spoken of, where Dr. Beaumont and his family, with the fervent piety, though not with the success of Moses, held up their hands in prayer to the God of battle. The result disappointed their ardent hopes; and the more grateful duty of thanksgiving was thus changed to humble resignation. The fugitive Loyalists and their vindictive pursuers scoured along the valleys. The present situation of the Beaumonts was highly unsafe; and they eagerly hurried along to regain the melancholy shelter of their ruinous abode.
The shades of evening fell as they entered Waverly Park, agonized with sorrow and commiseration of the calamities they had beheld. A squadron of cavalry rode rapidly by them, which they guessed were part of the King's northern horse, so celebrated in the early periods of the civil war. Isabel's anxiety to see if they were closely pursued conquered her female terrors. She ran from her friends and climbed a little eminence, by which means she discovered a sight which roused the liveliest feelings of compassion. She saw an officer falling from his horse, dead, as she believed. Perceiving that he bled profusely, she called to her uncle to go back with her and try if they could render him any assistance. On such an occasion even Constance was courageous, and they all hastened to the spot where he lay. Mrs. Mellicent remarked, that though he had lost the distinguishing insignia, she feared, by his being so well accoutered, he was a rebel. His helmet was fallen off, his countenance entirely disfigured with blood, and the hand which grasped his broad-sword seemed stiffened instead of being relaxed by death. "It matters not what he is," replied Dr. Beaumont, "his present state requires immediate assistance." Constantia seized one of his hands to see if life still fluttered in the pulse, but dropped it in an agony, exclaiming, "Merciful Heaven, it is Eustace! I know him by the ring he always wore." Dr. Beaumont immediately recognized the well-known crest of the Earls of Bellingham. "Dear unfortunate youth," said he; "yet, my child, be comforted; he has died in a most righteous cause." By this time Isabel, who had ran to fetch some water, returned, and began to wash his face, and staunch the blood, while the distracted Constance clung, screaming, to the bosom of her aunt, wildly lamenting the fate of her beloved. With more self-command, but equal anxiety, Isabel removed the clotted gore, and pulled the matted hair from off his brow. "These," said she, "are not my brother's features, but indeed I know them well. Our noble protector, the good Barton's pupil—" She paused a moment, and gasped for her own breath, while eagerly watching if he respired. A deep sob gave indication of life. "He is alive," continued she, in a low whisper, as if fearing to precipitate a spirit that was fluttering between time and eternity; "let us gently raise, and try to restore him."
There was not one of the party who did not anxiously join in expressing, by their active services, the sense they entertained of former kindness. Williams hastened to bring a wain and mattress; Mrs. Mellicent ran for bandages and styptics; and the wounded gentleman was safely conveyed to the house, still in a state of insensibility. Mrs. Mellicent's skill had stopped the hemorrhage; and a more scientific surgeon, who was called in, pronounced that, with proper care, his wounds would not prove mortal. Isabel claimed the office of chief nurse; the patient's senses gradually returned; and his eyes, when again capable of distinguishing objects, recognized one which had long been impressed on his heart. He rewarded her benevolent ministration with a grateful smile and feeble pressure of her hand; and Isabel felt happier at that moment than she had ever done since her dear mother was interred among Fourness Fells, when, with a voice convulsed with grief, she joined in the requiem, filled her coffin with funeral herbs, and scattered the emblems of sorrow on her grave.
"You must not speak," said Isabel; "the Doctor has prescribed the utmost quietness; you must only listen while I tell you, that for a thousand worlds I would not have lost the pleasure of saving your life. Had I not turned back you would have bled to death in a few minutes. Alas!" continued she, recollecting herself, "the hope of your recovery transports me too far. I forget that your exertions probably contributed to make the battle of Preston end so fatally to our cause? Why are you the enemy of my King and of my father?"
"I will never be the enemy of those you love," replied he, with a look of languishing pain and grateful anxiety. Isabel burst into tears. "Say that again," said she; "just those words and no more, lest your wounds should bled afresh; and if you die—"
"Sweet Isabel, finish that sentence."
"I shall surely die of grief," said she, rushing out of the room to call her aunt to take her office, ashamed that her joy at her patient's recovery of his senses had overpowered her habitual self-command.
The news of Dr. Beaumont's having preserved the life of a wounded officer, soon reached the ears of Morgan, who concluding it must be one of his own party, imagined he should now have ample opportunity to wreak his vengeance on a man whom he had marked for destruction, in revenge for the insult he had received from Eustace, and the disappointment of his hopes of obtaining Constantia. It was, however, necessary to ascertain the fact of his harbouring a Royalist taken in arms, before he proceeded to frame the information. Not satisfied with the Doctor's solemn assurance that the person whose life he had preserved was in reality a Parliamentary officer, he insisted on examining him himself; and also that he might interrogate him without the intrusion of any witness. The danger which the sufferer's health might undergo, was beneath his notice; he entered the room with an air of domineering cruelty, ready to pounce on a victim unable to escape; but, after a short interview, he returned with the softened accents of obsequious respect to the stranger, and affable condescension to the Beaumonts. He desired that they would spare no trouble and expence in attending the gentleman, and assured them they would be well rewarded for their pains. He lamented that their poor abode did not afford suitable convenience, and hinted that as soon as the stranger was able to be removed he would have him conveyed to Saints' Rest, his own mansion. He then announced that their guest was the Lord Sedley, only son of the Earl of Bellingham, who at that time commanded the forces sent to subdue the Welsh insurgents, and was himself a personal favourite of Cromwell, and attached to his staff. "He gives," continued Morgan, "a very favourable account of your principles and conduct, and I shall not fail to announce your proper behaviour to their honours the Committee-men, and I hope Government will be disposed to overlook your past offences. The Earl is a staunch supporter of the good cause, and the young gentleman a youth of very fair promise."
If Morgan expected his intelligence would be received with the transport of minds subdued by adversity, and suddenly elated by a prospect of better times, he mistook the characters of those he addressed. The circumstance of Sedley wearing a seal-ring impressed with the crest of Bellingham, had led Dr. Beaumont to suspect who he was; but since in his former intercourse with the family he had studiously avoided all discovery, the worthy Rector thought it would be indecorous to take any advantage of his misfortunes, and therefore evaded the inquiries of Constantia, how he came to wear the same crest as Eustace, by remarking that many families adopted armorial bearings nearly similar. Totally free from all the malignant passions, he felt no animosity to the son of that traitor who had wrested a coronet and princely demesne from the injured Neville, but rejoiced at the consideration that it had been in his power to render the most important services gratuitously to one who had so essentially assisted his family, and was beside the darling pupil of his respected friend Barton. Mrs. Mellicent's feelings were of a more vindictive cast, but her asperity had been so softened by the fine person and pleasing manners of young Sedley, that she could not determine on the expediency of immediately turning him out of doors, as she possibly might have done had he been uncouth and vulgar; she even kept her resolution till sight of his necessity and helplessness had assisted her benevolence to vanquish the warmth of temper, and taught her to respect the claims of a fellow creature in distress. Isabel had by this time discovered the state of her own heart; and the superior rank of the object of her affections was not the only reason for changing love into despair. Her dear father had often in his former ravings mentioned Lord Bellingham as the ally of Lucifer, and likely to succeed him on the infernal throne. At those times it must indeed be remembered, that he mistook his own children for dancing fiends, but his aversion to Bellingham was rooted, and at every eclipse of reason he renewed his execrations on a person, whose name, in his tranquil moments, never passed his lips. She loved the son of this man; this villain; for so she must think him, as her father, even in his most eccentric moments, never so confounded the distinctions of honour and guilt as to misrepresent characters. Nor could his rooted aversion proceed from the difference in their political principles, for it was in her early years, before the troubles commenced, that he mentioned Bellingham as the infernal spirit who had driven him to the mountains; and in every allusion he confirmed the idea of a private rather than a public quarrel. Time and absence had increased rather than weakened the affection and reverence which Isabel bore to her father. His eminent services to the King, his bravery and activity, unimpaired by wounds, imprisonment, or declining years, made her prouder of such a parent than she would have been of one seated on the right hand of power. And had she cherished and avowed an affection for the son of a cruel enemy to her honoured father!—What a want of filial piety, what a shameful inattention to his wrongs would it be, knowingly to confirm such an unnatural inclination! Whatever pain it cost her, she determined to release her heart from the fetters which gratitude and pity had combined to form.